by Unknown
Cassie stared at the painter’s hand, unsure of what to do. If he was just any father, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. Paint or no paint, she’d shake it, smile, and tell him it was nice to meet him as well. But he was not just any father. He was the single, incredibly good-looking man that Becky had wanted her to meet—possibly even date and who knows what else. That made him a man Cassie didn’t want to touch or get to know. Had Becky pressured him into meeting her as well? Was he here to check Cassie out as a potential date, or was he really only searching for a mislaid sweatshirt?
The silence turned awkward, and Noah finally dropped his hand. “Sorry. I forgot about the paint. Normally, I wash up after a job, but I was running late. Which is something I’m also sorry about—being late, that is. I’m not normally a flake.”
She waved off the apology. “No worries. Parents sometimes get held up. I understand.” Cassie wasn’t about to explain why she hadn’t taken his hand before. He’d have to chalk it up to her being a priss or whatever. Which was fine. He didn’t seem like the type who would like high-maintenance girls, so maybe that opinion would nip whatever seed Becky might have planted in the bud.
Noah shuffled his feet, glanced out the door toward his car, then back at Cassie. “Well, it’s, uh… good to finally meet you. The girls really like your class. They’re always going on and on about how much fun they’re having.”
Cassie lifted an eyebrow. “Even Kajsa?”
“Uh…” He laughed. “Okay, so maybe not Kajsa. She comes because Becky gifted her the lessons and she doesn’t want to be ungrateful. I hope she doesn’t give you a hard time.”
“Not at all. She’s very polite and tries her best. She’s just not… as enthusiastic about it as the others.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. She’s a bit of a tomboy, so this really isn’t her scene. Becky’s hoping she’ll come to love it, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. Kajsa’s never been the dress-up, put-on-a-performance type of girl. She’d rather run out in the rain without her umbrella and splash in the puddles. But she doesn’t complain about coming either, so, who knows, maybe you can change her mind.” His words ended on a hopeful note.
Cassie hesitated. What did that mean? Was Noah the type of father who tried to push his daughters to be something they weren’t? Or was this his “fun sense of humor” that Becky had referenced?
“Yeah. Maybe,” she finally said.
More silence.
His feet shuffled again, and Noah nodded toward the door. “Well, I guess I’d better get the girls home. It was good to finally meet you. I’m nearly finished with a project I’ve been working on, so you’ll probably be seeing more of me and less of Becky.”
“Good to know.” Cassie was relieved that the awkward conversation was at an end. Another whoosh of cold air flew into the room as he left, and she resumed her efforts to tidy the foyer area. Then she pulled her keys from her purse and stared out into the darkening night. It had been snowing all day, which would mean her twenty-minute commute home would probably take more like forty minutes.
Cassie glanced back at the old, ratty carpet covering the floor of the foyer. Through the too-small glass window into the dance studio, she noticed the scuffed floor was in need of a refinishing, the walls in need of a fresh coat of paint, and the space in need of another fifty square feet.
Two more parents had contacted her yesterday about signing their kids up for dance, and Cassie was running out of space. Maybe it was time to stop reworking her basement plans and hand them over to someone who could do something about them.
Noah opened his front door to find a shivering Becky carrying a steaming pot of something. Yesterday and the day before, it had been Emma bringing dinner.
He stepped back, allowing her to come inside. “What did you and Emma do, make dinner assignments? She pulled the short stick for Monday and Tuesday which left you with Wednesday?”
Becky brushed past him and headed for the kitchen. “No idea what you’re talking about.” She set the pan down on the counter with a light clang and smiled up at him. “I tried a new recipe for cheesy broccoli soup tonight and made way too much. I didn’t want it to go to waste.”
“That’s funny.” Noah lifted the lid, felt the steam hit his face, and breathed in an aroma that made his stomach grovel for a taste. “Emma said the same thing on Monday when she brought us lasagna. And wouldn’t you know, yesterday chicken was on sale and she didn’t have room in her freezer, so she had to make extra.”
“That’s not funny,” said Becky, her poker face still intact. “Sounds to me like you’re surrounded by nitwits.”
“No.” Noah replaced the lid and gave her a side hug. “I’m surrounded by angels. Thanks, Beck. But you’ve already done more than enough by recommending me to some of your clients. It’s because of you that I’ve got work. You don’t need to make us dinner too. Though I have to admit, that soup smells incredible.”
“Tastes good, too.” Her eyes twinkled. “And where are my girls? How was dance today?”
“Showering.” Noah grimaced. “You should have smelled my truck after I picked them up. I’m thinking it’s time to invest in some deodorant.”
Becky leaned a hip against the counter and folded her arms. “They’re growing up. Before you know it, they’re going to follow in Sam’s footsteps and take off for college.”
“Now there’s a happy thought,” Noah said dryly, making her laugh.
“So…” she hedged. “Did you get a chance to meet Cassie when you picked them up?” To most people, the question would have sounded so innocent. But after all of her hints about how Cassie was single, and pretty, and talented, and a wonderful person, and single, Noah knew better.
“I did,” he said, and left it at that. He wasn’t about to tell Becky that her friend was the most standoffish person he’d ever met. Cassie’s expression had been too serene, her posture too perfect, and her sense of humor too nonexistent. She wouldn’t even shake his hand. There was no denying she was beautiful, but if Noah was actually looking—which he wasn’t—it would be for more than a pretty face. He’d want someone who knew how to have fun; someone who could be a wonderful mom to his girls. Cassie didn’t seem to fit that description.
Becky wasn’t about to let it drop. “And… ?” she prompted.
“And what?”
She rolled her eyes. “What did you think?”
“Uh… she seems nice.” Sort of.
“Nice?” Becky said. “That’s it? Really?”
“We talked for a total of five minutes. And yeah, she was nice.” Sort of.
“Did you think she was pretty?”
“Sure.”
“Intelligent?”
Noah was ready to end the conversation and eat the soup. “Like I said, five minutes.”
Becky frowned. “I can’t believe you only talked to her for five minutes. You should have given it at least fifteen.”
“And let the girls smell up my cab even more? I don’t think so.”
Becky leveled him a hard stare. “Just promise me the next time you’re able to pick them up, you’ll give her a chance.”
He sighed. Becky had done so much for him and the girls, and he would bend over backwards to return all the favors. But this? This made him incredibly uncomfortable. If he was going to meet a girl, he wanted to do it on his own terms and in his own way—not be pushed into something that wouldn’t have a chance of going anywhere but down.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “She doesn’t really seem like my type.”
“Wow, that’s pretty amazing you could know that after only five minutes,” Becky said.
“Hey, sometimes that’s all it takes.”
“And most of the time, it takes a lot longer.” She paused, and Noah could almost see her mind thinking and calculating. “Promise me one thing, will you?”
It was on the tip of Noah’s tongue to say “not a chance,” but after all she’d done for him, Noah couldn’t force t
he words out. “Depends. What is it?”
“Find out what her favorite flavor of ice cream is.”
That sounded easy. Too easy. What was Becky up to? "If I do, will you stop trying to set me up?”
“With her? Sure.”
“I mean period. I mean it, Beck. I do this for you, and you have to promise there will be no more matchmaking attempts.”
From the way her brow furrowed, Becky didn’t much care for that idea, but she finally nodded. “Fine. But you can’t let Cassie brush you off with I-don’t-have-a-favorite-flavor excuse. She has to give you an answer.”
“And if she really doesn’t have a favorite flavor?”
“Who doesn’t have a favorite flavor?” Becky gave him a triumphant grin. “I’ve got to run now. Be sure to tell the girls hi for me.”
“Thanks again for the soup.”
Hunger forgotten, Noah watched the door close behind his neighbor. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down on it, thinking that he should be the one wearing the triumphant grin. One simple question and Becky would stop her matchmaking efforts for good. No sweat.
Why, then, did Noah suddenly feel as though he’d walked into some sort of carefully laid trap?
The concrete was cold and hard, and the air around Cassie not much warmer. She was sitting on the floor of her basement, leaning her head against the only wall that Landon had erected before his accident. The two-by-fours felt rough against her back, and the splinters pulled at the hair in her ponytail.
She looked from the graph paper on the ground to the unfinished basement that surrounded her. On paper, the design worked. It gave her an outside entrance for the girls and an inside entrance for her. It gave her a family room, a dance studio, and a bathroom. But would she like the end result? Was the bathroom big enough for the girls to change in? Would the foyer be too tight of a space for parents to wait? Would the studio get enough light? Would that extra corner of space look awkward? And would the extra little family room be as cozy and warm as she wanted?
How many times had she sketched out various floor plans? How many different configurations had she tried? Enough to know that this was the one that would work the best. Right?
She frowned at the sketch.
What Cassie needed was another pair of eyes to look it over. For the first time since Landon’s accident, she found herself missing her late husband. He’d always been the type to find the problems with anything, and right now, Cassie needed his critical way of thinking, even though she already knew he’d nix the plan as soon as he saw it. Landon had wanted to turn the basement into a man cave, not a dance studio. He’d wanted a pool table, a massive TV, a cold and slippery leather couch, and a small kitchenette. She’d tried to convince him there was space enough for both of them, but when they sat down to draw it all out, there wasn’t. Not unless he could go without his pool table, which he’d been unwilling to do.
In the end, one of them had to sacrifice, and that person was Cassie. It was always Cassie. She had a perfectly good job at Hanson Imaging. Why did she want to be a dance instructor anyway? He’d asked the question so many times she’d lost count.
But now that Landon was gone, Cassie didn’t have to sacrifice. She could do whatever she wanted.
And yet she still waffled.
Hmm… Was there something she’d missed? Something she hadn’t thought of? Something she’d be kicking herself for not thinking of later? If only there was someone to call for a second opinion. Someone who’d done this before. Someone with a good eye. Someone like… Becky.
Feeling like she was grasping at straws, Cassie tugged her phone from her pocket and scanned through her small list of contacts to Becky’s name. Before she could rethink anything, she placed the call. A quiet ringing sounded in her ear, followed by Becky’s perky voice.
“Cass, this had better not be another one of your pocket calls. I can’t take anymore disappointment.”
“No such luck,” said Cassie with a smile.
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
Though Cassie hadn’t known Becky for too long—she’d been the real estate agent who’d helped Cassie find her current dance space—Becky was the sort of person who became insta-friends with everyone. Or maybe Cassie had needed a friend so badly that she’d latched on to Becky the way a lost puppy would do to the first person who offered it food or showed kindness.
But Becky had never made her feel like a lost little puppy. It was why calling her was easy to do.
“I need a favor,” said Cassie.
“Perfect. I like doing favors. What’s up? Do you need my help sewing dance costumes? Answering phones? Redesigning that drab little studio I should have never shown you in the first place?”
“It was the only place I could afford.”
“And I find that as sad now as I did then.”
“Is that why you keep referring me to everyone you meet who has a daughter between the ages of six and eighteen?”
“No—at least not totally. I refer you because you’re talented, a wonderful teacher, and who wouldn’t want their kid to learn Irish dance? It’s the coolest style of dance ever.”
Cassie laughed. “Well, thank you regardless. Because of you, I now have some really great news.”
A happy squeal sounded on the other end of the line. “Are you saying you can afford to move now? Yay! I’ll start looking for new spaces right away.”
“I, uh… already found a place.” Cassie cringed when she said it, hating that this “favor” wouldn’t include a commission for Becky.
“Really? Where?” There was no disappointment in Becky’s voice, only curiosity.
“My basement.”
A gasp, followed by what sounded like a clap. “Oh, Cass. That’s perfect! I had no idea you even had a basement, let alone one that will be large enough for a studio.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’ve been trying to draw up plans for months now and could really use a second pair of eyes.”
“I do have two of them,” Becky said, sounding delighted. “And I’d love to help. When can I come over?”
“Whenever you have the time. I’m not picky. I’m just grateful you’re willing to help.”
“As if I’d ever say no to you. Friday morning work?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Great. See ya then.”
“Thanks, Becky.” Cassie set her phone down on the concrete floor. The basement suddenly felt lighter and warmer—more hopeful, which was a foreign feeling for Cassie of late. But ever since she’d met Becky, parts of her life had started to look up and fall into place. She’d found a studio she could afford, registered more girls than she’d expected her first year, and now this. Sometimes, Cassie couldn’t help but wonder if Becky was part angel.
Noah wasn’t one to shove things to the back burner. If the swing in the backyard needed fixing, he fixed it. If his car was due for an oil change, he changed it. And if he promised a friend he’d do something, he followed through as soon as possible.
Which was exactly why he showed up at the dance studio ten minutes before the end of class. He had a question to ask, and he needed an answer today. Then it would be over and done. Exactly how he liked it.
Casting a glance through the small window, Noah saw all the girls on the floor, legs stretched out in front of them, stretching to reach their toes. Adelynn and a few others could do it, but Kajsa had about four inches to go and didn’t appear very pleased about it.
While the girls stretched, Cassie walked gracefully around the room, straightening a leg here, pressing lightly on a back there, and tucking a chin toward the knee. When she came to Kajsa, her lips twitched slightly before she schooled her features into a serene expression and knelt beside his daughter. She said something that wiped the frustration from Kajsa’s face and replaced it with a smile.
Intrigued, Noah took a few steps closer. What had Cassie said? When it came to Kajsa’s frustrations, Noah could never say the right thing. If he tr
ied for sympathy, she rolled her eyes. If he tried to tease a smile out of her, she grew more frustrated and stomped away. But all Cassie had to do is whisper a few words, and, like magic, happy Kajsa was back.
Cassie’s shiny, strawberry blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her movements were slow and deliberate. She personified tranquility. Her hips swayed slightly as she walked from one girl to the next, and when she spoke, everyone paid attention, including Noah, who couldn’t hear a word she said. It was obvious the girls respected her, liked her, looked up to her.
Adelynn raised her hand and asked a question. Cassie smiled and shook her head in the negative. All the girls—with the exception of Kajsa—rose to their knees, and with palms together scooted slightly forward, saying something that looked like “Please?”
Noah took another step closer, wondering what was going on. It was like watching a movie on mute without any subtitles. If only he could read lips.
She finally held out her hand in an okay-okay-you-win sort of gesture. Then she walked to the corner and fiddled with the stereo system. The faint, muffled strains of some folk-type music sounded, and Cassie walked regally back to the center front of the class. She straightened her arms at her side, turned her fists to the back of the room, raised her chin and waited a few beats before her legs and feet started moving faster than Noah had ever seen legs move. She flew through the steps fluidly, dancing around the room, then forward and backward, before she finally stopped at the front and executed a flawless bow.
The girls burst into applause—even Kajsa—and Cassie smiled. A dimple appeared in the side of her cheek, and her vibrant green eyes lit up. They contrasted nicely with her strawberry blond hair. In that moment, she looked lovely, talented, and approachable.
Maybe he’d misjudged her a little.
Soon, more parents arrived, and the class was dismissed. The moment Kajsa saw Noah through the open door, she yelled out, “Daddy!” and came charging his way. Adelynn soon followed. As the girls barreled into him, Noah’s gaze caught Cassie’s briefly before she looked away. Another parent engaged her in a conversation as Kajsa grabbed Noah’s hand.